that is already lost."
that is already lost."
You are free to walk away at whatever point
in the story
makes you uncomfortable.
When the sink breaks,
when the floods come,
when my nails chip,
when my soul is an ocean,
when the food molds,
when he is bleeding in the church bathroom,
when I am melting
and he is still holding on.
You can leave.
The door is unlocked.
The window is open
and the back gate leads
to an open road.
My body is soft.
Sometimes, my heart is
a stone in the pocket
of a dying man.
I cry alone.
I associate myself with the moon.
I smoke because it kills me.
I fuck even when I do not love.
There are knives that have
held me closer than anyone else has.
You are free to run from this burning building,
to save the furniture, the photographs, yourself.
I don’t mind smelling gasoline every time
I close my eyes.
Run before we collapse
and I write you into my
epitaph, before you casket
into my thoughts.
You are free to walk away
whenever you feel uncomfortable
holding me and feel nothing but ghost.
I don’t mind.
I don’t mind.
I don’t mind
I cannot wait until you publish a book. Unf.
i never really liked
until i found out
what it tastes like
when you sigh it
(i came up with this one at orchestra and was finally able to write it down. enjoy)
I wonder why I rarely feel
like my full self in the presence of most men.
I wonder if most men would hear that
and feel unwelcome in my presence.
I wonder if I have spent most of my life as myself
or most of my life as a welcome mat.
I wonder who is wiping their feet on my heartbeat.
I wonder how muddy my own boots are.
[Black text on a white background:
“It’s 6 am and I want to be lying next to you
with our hands locked together,
and our legs intertwined.
I want your face buried in my neck,
and I want to listen to your breathing.
I want you to wake up and tell me
“I’m so tired”
because I want to whisper
“Go back to sleep”
and I want to hold you tighter when you do.
I want to lie in bed alone with you,
in the comforting quiet of the early morning hours,
and maybe read a book while you sleep.
I want to be simple with you,
and I want to be whatever you need me to be.”]
I want someone wants this.
Anny Miner - “Isis” (CUPSI 2013)
“I had accepted that I would never be safe in a relationship, that something about my heart was too forgiving, too soft and easy for a man to form a fist around.”
Anny Miner, performing for SUNY Oneonta during semifinals at the College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational.
“even if you believe in one life, I believe in infinite restarts, in pointing to anywhere on a map and calling it ‘hope.’”
“We can each be a new life to someone who thought they were already gone. And if you are there being torn apart by some unforgiving evil, please know there are lives that will love every broken part of you, who will not falt you for every time you flinch, every time your mind gets stuck in an overdue history book, but rather would welcome your every return.”
The night we fucked
on the rooftop of your apartment
the sky was the color
of a dusky bruise.
A dirty plum.
The entire skyline was spread out before us
and every time
your hips came to meet mine
I couldn’t help but think
about how familiar this is,
how I am so comfortable
how your skin was the most
inviting thing I had held in
a long time.
So thank you.
Thank you for the fact that you are unafraid
to hold my hand in front of all of Los Angeles,
for getting naked with me on your roof,
for waking up the neighbors
and laughing over being so
whatever it is
that we are.
is a bliss
I will always cherish.
So thank you
for coloring the sky
all the bruises
I have ever received,
for holding me like
I am worth something,
— writingsforwinter (via emceelizziegibson)
are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body.
You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she
will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back
to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.
I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me
You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you.
You think I’ll understand your sadness because I live inside my own.
But I will show up at your door at 2 am, wild-eyed and sleepless.
and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone
and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home."
oh fuck, i feel like i just got stabbed in the gut.
oh my god
no one ever congratulates you
for doing the really difficult things
like driving on the freeway or getting out of bed or
every friendship you make is a countdown
to the moment
when they finally can’t deal
with the missed calls and canceled hangouts
every friendship is on a timer
every friendship expires sooner,
you hear phrases like “bootstraps”
over and over
until you wish you had some to hang
you have to learn to simultaneously
relax your muscles
and move them with determination
you have to be in control
and you have to let go
at the same time
it’s enough to drive you into
a blubbering mess
music is a conduit
crying is a conduit
your dad calling is a conduit
everything becomes a conduit
for either having or not having another panic attack
you learn to stop making plans
because you’ll either disappoint yourself
or someone you care about or both
you accept all of it
you hope someday everyone else can
accept it too
This is my life.
Confessions of an Uneducated Queer- New Video! Recorded by my BFF, Jerre B. Fine at the most woo place in the land of enchantment, The Source for Creating Sacredness. I had such an amazing time in ABQ, folks showed up with so much love. Warning: I cry a bit because Jerre is standing right there and because this is real fucking life.
Falu - “Christ” (WoWps 2013)
“Do not come back for us; we will drown you.”
Falu, finalist at the 2013 Women of the World Poetry Slam.
To every day you could not get out of bed.
To the bulls eye of your wrist
To anyone who has ever wanted to die.
I have been told, sometimes, the most healing thing to do-
Is remind ourselves over and over and over:
“Other people feel this too.”
The tomorrow that is coming, gone
And it has not gotten better
When you are half finished writing that letter
to your mother that says “I swear to God I tried
But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back”
There is no bruise like the bruise of loneliness kicks into the spine
So let me tell you I know there are days
it looks like the whole world is dancing in the streets
when you break down like the doors of the looted buildings
You are not alone"
— Andrea Gibson - The Nutritionist (via godzillaahh)
I wish my body came with a warning label:
Doesn’t speak up enough.
Can’t look at you when you talk.
Scared of spiders, crossing the street, and ‘it’ happening again.
Handle with care.
Can’t remember what it feels like to be happy
on a couch three weeks ago.
Can’t remember what its like to be loved so hard
that she thought she would disappear.
Can’t even tell if she was ever loved that deep.
Only knows what its like to fuck that deep.
Wonders about god, but doesn’t believe.
Thinks she’s boot sole.
Thinks she’s never going to make it to the morning.
Is always surprised when she does.
Smokes when she feels like hopeless,
when she feels like exhale.
Thinks she can cure herself.
Thinks her body is an apology that no one wants to make.
Handle with care.
Thinks she’s going to drown today.
Thinks she’s not going to make it.
Thinks she’d look prettier with her eyes closed.
Knows that she is going to die
missing pieces of her heart.”
“If sexism is a gun, men hold it. And sometimes it recoils and hits them and that HURTS…but not as much as getting hit with the bullet.”
Don’t wait for people.
Don’t wait for good things to happen to you.
Don’t wait for anything to happen.
Don’t wait because you’ll...